I have listened to audiobooks during my commute since I started traveling for work in 1997. A couple of years ago, the main character in one book was a young adult on the Autism spectrum. As a school psychologist, I have observed and evaluated many children on the spectrum. But, this was really the first time I heard a story from the first-person perspective, to hear the thoughts and see the behaviors of an adult on the spectrum.
The character was very high functioning, but was still experiencing unique struggles. As I listened to the book, there were so many things I could relate to. It was a lightbulb moment for me, and I began researching “adult women on the spectrum”. As I read, much of it had me saying, “that sounds just like me”.
While I haven’t been formally diagnosed, nor do I think I ever will, this insight into my personality gives me a certain sense of relief. I’ve always wondered why I felt so seemingly different from others. I always put labels (usually negative) on my thoughts and behaviors, such as: selfish, anti-social, anxious, awkward, unlikable, critical, rigid. The list goes on, but as you can see, it wasn’t a list of positive attributes.
While having this realization doesn’t change who I am, it has allowed me to offer grace to myself. For example, I struggle being around groups of people. Honestly, I find it exhausting. I become anxious even having to introduce myself to a group of 10 people. Attending events where there will be crowds is overwhelming. In those situations, I feel the need to act and speak a certain way, in a sense, I become a character or persona that I think is appropriate for the situation. I’ve learned, through research, this is called masking. I’ve probably been doing this my whole life, but as I’ve gotten older, it has become more taxing, and I find myself seeking situations and environments where that is required less and less.
To some extent, I even do it around my closest friends and family, even my spouse and children. I can become desperate for time alone, to have the freedom to be just me and not someone else’s someone. I used to feel horribly selfish when I wanted time alone. But now I know, It is then that the “mask” comes off, and I can truly relax. I need this time in order to be a better version of myself when I do have to be around others.
My other strong tendency is to want to control everything about a situation or experience. I always thought it was a result of being an only child and wanting things the way I want them, when I want them. But, upon further introspection, I act/feel this way because the unknowns make me very anxious. For example, when going to a restaurant, I need to know how long is the drive, what will the interior look like, how close will I have to sit to other people, will a booth be available, what is on the menu, etc. These kinds of thoughts and behaviors can seem off-putting to those around me. And even create conflict if that person isn’t aware of the underlying motivation for my questions and anxiousness. I’ve learned that if I do the research ahead of time, look at pictures of the restaurant, read the menu, I am more able to relax.
As it becomes more common for adults to seek diagnoses such as ADHD, anxiety, and Autism spectrum disorders, I hope we can change how we “label” others. Instead of the adjectives I used to use to describe myself (selfish, anti-social, rigid), maybe we can see each other through the lens of grace and understanding. That maybe everyone is “masking” something in their life and he/she just needs a little more compassion.
I often commune with God while swimming laps in my neighborhood pool. I am alone in the early morning hours and the setting is peaceful. The sun is peeking through the surrounding pine trees, the sky is a beautiful blue with a few puffy clouds floating by, and the birds are engaging in conversations.
The constant left/right rhythm of my swim strokes is almost meditative, allowing my mind to wander and God to speak. Thoughts come to me as I reflect on a verse I studied or a devotion I have read. By quieting my own inner voice, I often hear words of comfort, teaching or life application.
After swimming laps one particular morning, I stopped at the end of the pool to stretch. As I leaned forward, I noticed that underwater, the skin on my knees looked different from other parts of my body. This lighter pink area was new skin, a result of scars that are still forming after a bad fall I took while walking the dog a couple of years ago.
At the time of the fall, I experienced a lot of superficial trauma and a LOT of bleeding (which my husband really enjoyed), but also some damage to the tissue and bone underneath. Immediately, my body reacted to the trauma, and my knees began to swell. Over the next few weeks, bruises formed, and I had a lot of pain and stiffness. I tried everything to lessen the pain and speed the healing – ointments, oral painkillers, special bandages, and even essential oils a thoughtful neighbor brought over.
It took time, more time than I would have liked, as I’m not a very patient patient. I wanted an immediate fix, and a return to normal activities and appearance. During that time, it was very obvious that I was injured and had healing wounds. I was embarrassed by my band-aids and scabs whenever I was out in public, as scrapped knees are a common accessory of children, not grown adults.
Now, two years later, during everyday life, no one would ever notice that anything looks different about my knees. But under those special underwater conditions, I could see my body was still healing. It made me realize, that we all walk around like this, with areas of our life that are still healing. Wounds that aren’t visible to the naked eye, yet are still there. But, God knows. He sees the wounds, he knows the hurt, the healing that has occurred and the healing still in process. He is ready and waiting to offer us comfort as we heal.
We should be ready to offer the same, to look for those people whose healing isn’t as evident as red scabs, a bandaged knee or a slight limp. We need to acknowledge that not all wounds leave a mark, but healing is still required. Not every wound heals the same and not every person’s path to healing follows the same timeline. Some wounds will leave a scar or tenderness that wasn’t there before.
Let us have underwater vision to see the tender new skin that everyone wears at some point in their life and give them the time and comfort as they heal.
2 Corinthians 1:4 who comforts us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort those who are in any trouble, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. NKJV
In my neighborhood, homeowners take great pride in creating positive curb appeal. Yards are landscaped, flower beds are pruned, and front porches hold shabby chic decor, all creating an inviting exterior. Many homeowners also pay special attention to their foyer. The foyer is what the delivery person sees when putting a package on your porch, and where you visit with the neighbor who drops off the incorrectly delivered package.
Once you get past the foyer, that’s where the real living takes place. Dog toys are strewn across the floor, unopened mail is stacked on the kitchen island, there is a tote of things on the stairs that someone needs to take up the next time they pass by it (for the 10th time!). Living rooms, kitchens, and bathrooms, that’s where we do real life, and real life is messy sometimes.
When we have company coming over to share a meal, or we are hosting our small group from church, what do we do? We scoop up all of our stuff, and we put it in the hall closet, pantry, or kitchen cabinets (where it will sit for a few weeks because we forgot where we put it). We want our home and our life to look presentable to others. But, what happens over time, if we’re lucky, is we develop relationships with people, in which we no longer feel the need to clean up before they come over. They accept our house and our lives just as they are – messy and lived in. These people become like family.
Unfortunately for me, years ago, I had a family-like friend stop coming into my living room. There were changed circumstances in both of our lives that made her think that boundaries were needed. I didn’t understand at the time and was deeply hurt. I took from that experience that being vulnerable and transparent with someone wasn’t worth the hurt that could come from possible rejection later.
Nowadays, I have lots of front porch friendships, some have come into my living room (but I’m still tidying up before they come over). A very few have been let into the mess that is my real life. Even those few, I still hold at arm’s length, because any closer, and they might actually wound my heart.
I know God is calling me to let people in, but when you’ve been hurt deeply and/or more than once, it is a very hard calling. For me, I think I need to find “my people”. People with similar kinds of “junk” that will understand why my “house” looks the way it does. Because, years later, I’m still wounded. I haven’t experienced the healing nor have the courage to make myself that vulnerable again. One could even reason that if you don’t let others close to you, they can’t hurt you. True, but you also don’t get to experience the joy, peace, and comfort that comes from family-like friendships. I’ve known those feelings, and I hope one day I will experience them again.
This isn’t one of those devotional posts where I’m going to quote a scripture or paraphrase a sermon that changed my heart and my life. The call to action from this post isn’t to look and learn from my transformation, because, I’m not there yet. I’m still in the midst of the mess and the hurt of it all. I share this story so anyone who has felt the same pain can feel less alone and maybe we can encourage one another to open our hearts to the possibilities of new friendships. To invite others in to our living rooms without picking up the mess.
For he satisfies the longing soul, and the hungry soul he fills with good things. (Psalm 107:9)
Like many people, I began 2022 with a resolution to lose weight and be healthier from the inside out. I prayed, I researched, and settled on The Daniel Plan. Not the fast, but the 30- day meal plan. My husband joined me, and together we read our chapters, made goals, logged our food and waited. By Day 6, my morning devotion/journal entry started with: “I am already struggling…a lot. I want easy, fun food. I don’t want the boring, healthy stuff.”
Why did the world have to make “things” that aren’t really food taste so good? Was there a shortage of actual food, so that’s why people began creating food-like substances? I don’t understand why we have entire stores filled with food that isn’t actually food. The Daniel Plan book has a quote about shopping: If it was grown on a plant, eat it. If it was made in a plant, leave it on the shelf.
I realized that my previous relationship with food was to eat what I wanted rather than what I needed. There are so many things we “feed” our bodies that are based on want rather than need. I asked God to take the want of what is unhealthy away from me and replace it with only the desire for what is good and what is actually beneficial to me.
I’d love to say that while doing the Daniel Plan, I lost a lot of weight and no longer struggle with my relationship with food, but I can’t say that. What I can report is that the plan forced me to confront my thought process about food. I began to really think about whether something was actually nutrition, versus just food-like substances that were primarily preservatives/chemicals.
I also went back to my daily morning prayer time. I had become lax in this decades-long practice in the previous six months or so. As I spent more time in the Word, I became stronger in my resolve to take better care of myself. I’m far from perfect, but, I am, definitely, depending more on pure nourishment- Biblically and nutritionally, these days.
Jesus said to them, “I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me shall not hunger, and whoever believes in me shall never thirst.” (John 6:35)
After my divorce and subsequent time growing/healing in counseling, attending small group Bible studies, spending time with friends, and having time alone, I felt ready to date again. I had a solid understanding of who I was and what I wanted in a partner, so I summoned some courage and created an online dating profile. The pool of viable candidates wasn’t large, more like a very small wading pool, but the process taught me how to communicate clearly who I was and what I was looking for. I learned how to discern quickly that a relationship wouldn’t work – through emails or phone conversations. I learned how to be politely honest when I delivered the news that I didn’t think we were a good match.
I held strong convictions, that if I was going to date someone, I needed to KNOW it was right. I remember telling my friends, at the time, that THE guy needed to show up on my front porch with a sign that read “God sent me”. After a few months of the online world, I began attending local Christian singles events, equipped with newfound confidence and a cautious optimism.
One particular event was a dinner held at a restaurant with outdoor seating. As I entered the patio, I noticed a man I had not seen at previous events. We were introduced and chatted a bit before being placed at different tables for the meal. While I spoke with almost everyone at the event, I tended to gravitate back to this man. We talked for several hours that evening, many times to the exclusion of anyone else (not even noticing they had left our table).
As the evening began to wind down, we found ourselves seated in a group of about six people. I glanced over to him, sitting directly to my left, and we exchanged a glance usually reserved for longtime couples, the whole-conversation-in-a-look type of glance. In that second, I wondered why his arm wasn’t around my shoulders, and simultaneously, wondered why on earth would I be thinking that? We just met. We didn’t exchange phone numbers that night, but we did manage to connect shortly afterwards via Facebook (gotta love social media). Many dates and long phone calls ensued over the next 8 months, but the knowing I experienced the first night never went away.
During this time, we were both completely surrendered to whatever God’s plan was for our lives. We were prayerful about every aspect of our relationship. I had never felt so loved and cherished by another human. My heart that had been so damaged during my first marriage was beginning to love again. I learned what it was to trust a man with my heart and know that he wasn’t going to cause me harm on purpose. When I stood at the altar, pledging to be his wife, I had no doubts that this was the man God sent for me (even though he didn’t come with the sign declaring such).
We often talk about whether we were supposed to meet earlier in life, did we somehow miss God’s prompting sooner? I don’t pretend to understand God’s plans, but I do know that waiting on His timing is always right. We are close to celebrating our 11th wedding anniversary and while I can’t claim it has been perfect, I am so grateful I was listening to God’s voice, instead of my own, twelve years ago, because God’s plans will always be more than just “good enough”.
